True Love
by eshesh
Summary: Chef Sirius cooks up trouble for Remus and Tonks at Maison Black. Or perhaps he's simply being helpful? Rated for safety, just language and some sexual innuendo. Angst, romance, humor. Could be depressing. Not fluff. Sorry. RLNT


_**Author's Note: **This was originally written for the RT Challenge community on LiveJournal, so it features a Remus/Tonks pairing. The prompts were a photo of a broken egg, the lyrics "Loving is good if it's not understood", and the word "bump"._

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**True Love**

The atmosphere in the kitchen at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, was thick with the mouth-watering aroma of bacon, not to mention a considerable amount of smoke. Standing at the cooker, Sirius Black was engaged in a valiant battle against his skillet. "En garde!" he shouted. Thrusting his fork into the pan, he flipped the crispy bacon onto a platter as he nimbly parried the spitting grease. Victory assured, Sirius wiped a sweaty palm across his forehead. Recalling with satisfaction the fencing lessons he'd been dragged to as a small boy, he grinned. They'd finally been turned to good use.

As he turned off the fire, his hand brushed the pan. "Ow! Bugger it!" He sucked a scorched thumb. He'd been attacked by many things in this hell hole, but a kitchen appliance was a new one. "Moony, you reckon my dear mum put a curse on the cooker?"

From behind his Daily Prophet, Remus Lupin answered through a yawn, "Unlikely, Sirius. Molly doesn't seem to have any trouble with it."

_Damn the man._ Where was the respect, the consideration, yea the gratitude, that should be accorded to the preparer of the evening meal? The thought that Molly Weasley had perhaps deserved better treatment from him in this regard flitted briefly through his mind before being replaced by a more entertaining possibility. "Molly cursed it, then, to keep me away from it while she's gone? Pan was hurling that grease at me something fierce."

Remus turned a page. "Next time try not to sneeze into the pan while you're cooking."

"Ah. Well, a few bogeys never hurt anyone." Sirius popped a rasher into his mouth, hissing between his teeth to cool it as he chewed. "Have a piece while it's hot?"

Peering over his newspaper, Remus said mildly, "No, thank you, Sirius. I'll wait to enjoy it with the rest of my gourmet meal. Need any help?"

"No, blast you. And don't mock me, or next time you'll be getting pot noodles instead." Not for the first time this evening, Sirius regretted volunteering to provide Remus' pre-transformation dinner. Although perhaps 'volunteering' was not quite the _mot juste._ In a tone that brooked no argument, Molly had cornered him this morning to insist that a werewolf must have a filling, protein-rich meal to keep him happy during the full moon. Somehow it hadn't seemed the time to ask if her assertion was backed by intuition or solid research. "Roast beef sandwiches?" Sirius had asked hopefully, recalling a pitiful bit of leftover meat in the cooler. "A _cooked_ meal, Sirius." End of discussion. So here he was, the modern male, nurturing away with the best of them. Although he knew not the mysteries of pot roast, bacon and eggs had seemed within his grasp.

Sirius surveyed the items next to the stove, wondering what he should tackle next. Eggs, tomatoes, bread, butter, and jam. The rashers were cooked, and surely that must be the hardest thing? He decided to fry the tomatoes next, trying not to think about how much more grease he'd have to dodge. He turned on the fire again, sliced the tomatoes in half, and slid them into the pan. On impulse, he pulled a pot cover off the shelf and bunged it on top. As he gazed in satisfaction at his handiwork, Sirius heard the sound of the front door opening, immediately followed by the crash of some heavy object.

"DIRTY HALF-BLOOD! DEFILER OF MY HOUSE! FREAK! BEGONE, VILE ABOMINATION!"

"Oh, shut up, you filthy cow!" Tonks voice filtered in from the hallway, where she was no doubt struggling to pull the curtain across the portrait of Mrs Black.

_She_ would _make a point of stopping by this afternoon._ Sirius smirked at Remus. "Methinks I hear the dulcet tones of your lady love." Immediately, Sirius closed his eyes and gave himself a mental kick. _Idiot! Never ever ever use the L word._ He had a soft spot for Tonks. Whether she realized it or not, and on the whole Sirius rather thought not, she was heading for a train wreck with Moony. Using the L word would only speed up the train, and he hadn't a glimmer of an idea how to warn her. He risked a glance at Remus, who, to his relief, appeared unmoved at hearing Tonks referred to as his "lady love."

As epithets continued to volley between Mrs. Black and Tonks upstairs, Remus laid aside his paper and called out, "Need any help, Tonks?"

Her voice filtered in from upstairs. "No, no, I've got it. Sorry about the noise."

A moment later, Tonks bounded into the kitchen, carrying a parcel, which she tossed onto the table next to Remus. After giving him a quick kiss, she plopped onto the chair beside him and began rubbing her knee. "Bumped it. That blasted troll's leg ambushed me again. Someone keeps moving it." She bent her knee towards Remus. "Kiss and make it better?" she asked, looking at him through her eyelashes.

Sirius closed his eyes with a pained expression as Remus acquiesced. "Oh, gods. Spare me, Tonks. Keep the saccharine remarks to a minimum tonight. I have enough trouble right now without having to listen that." Sirius opened his eyes to see Tonks gazing fondly at the top of Remus' head as he gave her knee a prolonged kiss. He sighed. Although Remus and Tonks had been an item for months now, and Remus frequently spent the night at her flat, their relationship had remained fairly casual. And therein lay its success, if Tonks would only realize it. But if her increasingly frequent visits to headquarters were any indication, she didn't realize it at all.

When Remus lips finally left her knee, she stretched out her leg and gave it a few experimental bends. She remarked thoughtfully, "Just seems as if whenever I come in, that troll's-- Hang on! Could that blasted leg be hopping round on its own? I mean, given the things we've already turned up in this mausoleum, it isn't outside the realm of possibility, is it?" She turned from Remus to Sirius with a wide grin, as if inviting them to cheer the possibility of yet another cursed relic in the house.

Sirius looked at Tonks in pity. "Tonks, are you completely mental? The troll's leg is not stalking you. It is not lying it wait to trip you up. Try to understand this: _It moves because you trip over it!_"

"Sirius, I put it back every time. An inch away from the wall. Exactly! And it must have been at least four inches away from the wall when I ran into it tonight. It does move. I never fall over things in my own flat." Tonks crossed her arms and gave Sirius a disgruntled look.

As Sirius groped for a clever rejoinder to his young cousin's delusional statements, Remus said, "Sirius, didn't you just suggest that Molly cursed the cooker? You're certainly in no position to hurl the word 'mental' at anyone."

Sirius straightened his robes in a dignified manner. "Just trying to nip her paranoia in the bud, mate. Job hazard for Aurors, I expect. Doing her a favor. Think how well Moody might have turned out if someone had done it for him thirty years ago." Narrowing his eyes at Tonks, he went on, "No one knows better than I do that this place is a house of horrors, Tonks, but the troll's leg isn't walking around. Try to understand this: It moves because you trip over it."

Tonks frowned at him. "All I know is, whenever I put it back, I put it exactly an inch away from the wall. An inch, Sirius! It must have been about four inches out when I tripped on it." She went on sulkily, "Never trip on things at my own flat."

Sirius snorted in disbelief. "That so? I'd definitely need independent confirmation on that. Remus?"

"What? Does she trip at home? No, I don't suppose she does, much. But if you saw her flat..." Remus shrugged. "It's— it's just a bit—" He spread his hands in a vague gesture.

"Moony, much as I'd love to leave this mausoleum, a visit to Tonks' flat has never been one of my high priority destinations. What about her flat? Right pigsty, I expect?"

Remus laughed. "Very much the opposite. In her ongoing quest for order and predictability, Tonks has carried 'A place for everything, and everything in its place' to something of an extreme."

Sirius was intrigued at this unexpected revelation into Tonks' character. He seemed to see an entirely new vista of opportunities to take the mickey out of her opening before him. But before he could formulate an opening salvo, Tonks said sharply, "Sirius, something's burning!"

With a muffled oath, Sirius leapt to the smoking skillet. Levitating the lid, he peered in through the smoke, steam, and grease. "Well, that's alright. We like our tomatoes a bit crunchy, don't we, mate?" He scooped pathetic bits of blackened fruit onto the platter with the rashers, giving a silent prayer of thanks that Molly would be returning on the morrow.

Tonks watched him curiously. "Sirius, are you cooking dinner?"

"Oh, well done, Tonks. I can see why you're an Auror. Yes, as you so rightly observe, I am Cooking Dinner. That is, if by 'cooking' you mean 'waging war against a hostile cooking apparatus' and by 'dinner' you mean 'breakfast'." He went on virtuously, "Remus needs a filling, protein-rich meal tonight."

Looking up at the smoke cloud that had spread across the ceiling, she grinned. "'Looks more like you were trying to kipper him than feed him up."

"Sod off, _Nymphadora._ Think you could do better?" Sirius began roughly slicing the bread.

"Nah. I'd probably just toss him a jam butty and send him up to his room," she replied cheerfully, as she grabbed the bag she had brought with her. "I did pick up something for you lot today, though." She pulled a handful of licorice whips out of the bag and shook the tangled mass at them playfully. "Thought I'd try to broaden your sweets horizon. There's more to life than chocolate, you know. Friend of mine gives these to her dog to freshen his breath."

Sirius snickered, "Licorice whips? Is this your way of telling Remus that you don't like his dog breath?"

"Well, Sirius, it's my way of telling _someone._"

Remus smiled and returned to his perusal of the Daily prophet. Sirius put his hand to his heart and pulled a tragic face. "Oh, that hurt me, Tonks. You hurt me, and you know I lurve you." With an air of martyrdom, he slide the bread slices into the smoking pan. Over the sizzle of frying bread, he continued, "And as I'm making your boyfriend dinner, you might consider being kind to me for a change."

Remus laughed. "One of her boyfriends anyway. I'm sure she has a string of us, all smelling of licorice whips."

_Just keep thinking along those lines, Moony._ As he flipped the frying bread, Sirius recalled Remus describing to him his role as a minor player in Tonks' love life. He'd lightly called himself her 'charity case' with no discernible rancor. In their youth, Sirius had watched his friend drift politely away from any relationship that threatened to become serious and, as Remus had never married, Sirius doubted that his _modus operandi_ had changed much in the intervening years.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius watched Tonks gaze at Remus, obviously wishing he would look at her instead of his editorial. She was so obviously in love, it was almost laughable. And making no effort whatsoever to hide it, the little idiot. But for some reason Remus hadn't twigged to it yet. Tonks meditatively twirled a licorice whips around her finger, a slow smile spreading across her face. She leaned over to Remus, ran her hand down his arm, and whispered at length in his ear. Sirius watched a flush appear on his friend's cheeks. "Oi! Whispering of that kind is not on!"

Tonks fluttered her eyelashes innocently, "Whispering of what kind, dear cousin?"

Sirius closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he said patiently, "There are times, 'dear cousin,' when one might be entertained by the image of one's best mate tied up with licorice whips by a pink-haired dominatrix. Now is not one of those times. Can't you see that I must concentrate on Cooking Dinner? I've had occasion to warn you about this sort of whispering before, young Tonks. Kindly leave the poor bloke alone. Don't you have somewhere you need to be?" He moodily speared the bread slices from his pan.

Tonks crossed over to the cooker and gave Sirius' arm an affectionate pinch. "Sorry to get you all bothered, Sirius. I do need to run, meeting some friends at a pub actually. It's been lovely and instructive watching you cook."

Remus stood up and stretched, his eyes lingering dubiously on the heaped platter that represented his dinner so far. "Sirius is bothered by bacon, Tonks, not by you. I offered to help earlier, and now I think I'm going to insist." He nudged Sirius away from the pan and said, "I'll do the eggs. Relax for a bit Sirius."

Tonks smiled up at Remus and brushed a lock of hair from his eyes. "Be thinking of you tonight. I'll stop by sometime tomorrow to see you, shall I?"

Remus let out an amused breath and ran a hand through her spiky pink hair. "Don't bother, Tonks. Sirius will be fussing over me like a mother hen whenever I'm not napping. I'm not much of a conversationalist, the day after." He gave her a brief kiss and then turned away and began putting butter into the pan.

Tonks wrapped her arms round his waist, pressing her cheek against his back as Remus picked up an egg. "It's no bother, And who said anything about conversation? Might be I just want give you a bit of a cuddle during your nap. You're cute when you're asleep, you know."

Sirius put the back of his hand to his forehead dramatically, and crooned in a high falsetto. "Ah, the voice of truuuuue loooove." In a babying voice, he asked, "Does wittle Tonksie needs her cuddles, zen?"

Grinning, Tonks rushed at Sirius, holding her fists up as if to punch him, before applying a surprise kick to his shins.

"Ow! That hurt!"

She held her fists up again and giggled, "Don't mess with an Auror, Sirius. Wasn't talking to you anyway. Go tease someone your own size." As the two of them waged a playful skirmish, an egg dropped to the floor next to Remus.

Sirius looked down at the egg and up at Remus as he stood with his back to them at the cooker. His jaw dropped in sudden comprehension. _Bugger me. I've done it. Used that word again. Gods, I'm sorry, Tonks._ Remus had made no move to deal with the broken egg. In fact, he was as still as a statue. Eying him apprehensively, Sirius flicked out his wand. "I'll take care of it, mate. _Evanesco!_" The broken egg disappeared.

Putting his wand away, Sirius licked his lips and tried to make a plan. The only thing that came immediately to mind was, _Get Tonks out of here before Remus says something._

Grabbing Tonks' wrist, he unceremoniously pulled her towards the kitchen door, saying loudly, "Come along, Tonks. I'll see you out. Make sure you don't fall over anything."

Tonks stumbled after him as he dragged her out the door and up the stairs. She started to protest. "Sirius, let go! I won't—"

Once they were on the stairs, Sirius stopped and gripped Tonks' shoulders to turn her towards him. With a fierce look, he held a finger to his lips and raised his eyebrows significantly. For a wonder, she took the hint and shut up. _Now to get her out of here and then get Remus off the scent before he starts thinking too much._

As Sirius resumed pulling her towards the hall, he called heartily down the stairs, "Yes, Tonks, I'll make sure that mean old troll doesn't trip you up." As they made their way into the hall, Sirius was aware that Tonks was staring at him in total bewilderment.

As they trotted rapidly towards the door, out of earshot of the kitchen, Tonks pulled her wrist out of his grasp and turned to him. "Now what in the--" Sirius interrupted her with a quick cut of his hand and jerked his head towards his mother's curtained portrait.

They got to the door without mishap, but Sirius was feeling increasingly frantic. His instincts told him that if he didn't get back to Remus soon, his mate would start drawing too many of his own conclusions. A problem with these cerebral types, he'd always felt, was that they did seem to insist on drawing conclusions. Sirius opened the door and practically pushed Tonks through. She whirled around, her nostrils flared in irritation. She hissed, "Sirius, are you going to tell me what in the name of Merlin is going on?"

Sirius looked at her in dismay, unsure of what he could say in just a few seconds to make the situation clear. _Say anything. Just Get Her Out._ He started to babble. "Can't, right now. Tonks, I'm sorry. My fault, really. Truly sorry. Look— I'm— I'm going to try to fix this, and— Well, if he says anything to you, I'm sorry— I—"

"Sirius, what on earth are you talking about?"

"Nothing, Tonks." He amended, "Possibly nothing. Tonks, if— Look, if he doesn't say anything about it, I'll talk to you. DON'T BRING IT UP. Promise me!"

"Bring what up? Are you daft? What!?"

"Just— Just go. Now! Quick. I have to get back. I'll— I'll try to fix it."

He gave her a quick shove and shut the door. Turning, he trotted back downstairs into the kitchen, panting slightly.

Remus was standing at the cooker. Not cooking.

Sirius threw himself into the chair and with an air of studied casualness picked up the Daily Prophet. Peering over it, he examined Remus. He was still holding that blasted egg. Still not moving. _Damn him. Definitely thinking. Interrupt, you git!_

Sirius said, "Read you the editorials while you cook? Funny one here about, er, house-elf rights."

Remus silently shook his head, and looked down at the egg as if he had just noticed it.

Sirius turned a page in the newspaper. "No? Well then, how about we do the crossword? Read you a clue, mate?" When Remus didn't answer, Sirius gritted his teeth and urged himself to patience. He closed his eyes and counted silently. _One, two, three, four—_

Remus cleared his throat and said, "Um."

Bingo. Sirius opened his eyes. "Yeah, Remus?" A long silence followed, during which Sirius tried to recall any of the twelve uses for dragon's blood.

"Er. Sirius?"

"Still here, Moony." _One, two, three, four, five, six—_

"Padfoot." Remus turned the egg around in his hand. "Can I ask you something?"

Sirius sighed. "Say on, mate." Another long silence while Sirius tried to guess the 8 letter answer to "Very sad unfinished story about rising smoke."

"You don't think she— Tonks, that is, that she— Well. That she's fallen in love with me?"

_Poor bloke finally got it out. Okay, my turn now._ Sirius took a quiet breath and then replied in a deadpan voice, "Nah. She's just in it for your body." He glanced up from the crossword to see Remus looking at him over his shoulder.

Remus gave a faint smile, and Sirius waggled his eyebrows. "Oh. Ah. Right. A joke." Remus turned back to the egg but still didn't crack it open.

Sirius set aside the newspaper and let his voice take on a slightly aggrieved tone. "Look, Moony, I don't want to be the one to say it, but since you're my best mate... I owe you this. Just try to be reasonable about it, alright? She's a beautiful young woman, is Tonks. Sharp dresser. Social butterfly. Prestige job. Am I right?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "Now take yourself. An ugly old werewolf. Shabby. Reclusive. Unemployed." Sirius heaved a loud sigh, which he hoped hadn't been too theatrical, and shook his head slowly. "Moony, I'm sorry to say this but, no. No, she doesn't love you. I'm sure she likes you very much. Respects you deeply and that. If it's any consolation."

The stiffness melted from Remus' posture. He cracked the egg briskly into the pan. His relieved voice answered, "Yes. Of course you're right. Thanks for your honesty, Padfoot."

Sirius replied, "No problem, mate. Glad to help." He picked up the paper again. "Tell me when dinner's ready."

_End._

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_ A/N: I'm pathetically grateful for reviews, so if you enjoyed, please push that little button down there._ :-) 


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